


Everything Has a Price

by Art3misiA



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fairest Freaky Spooktacular, Long-arse one shot because it's not really chapter-friendly, Lucius' pov, M/M, Smut, Un-HeA, Very much a non-HeA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-31 19:41:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21246782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Art3misiA/pseuds/Art3misiA
Summary: Lucius Malfoy reflects back on his life, and the choices he made that led him to the present time.Everything we do has a price, something he knows well.
Relationships: Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Voldemort | Tom Riddle/Lucius Malfoy
Comments: 24
Kudos: 20
Collections: Fairest Freaky Spooktacular





	Everything Has a Price

**Author's Note:**

> Beta love to Charlie9646 and Ravens Light - thank you for swooping in last minute!
> 
> Aesthetic/prompt credit: Autumnmariefifa
> 
> I've never had the urge to write this pairing before, but it gave me all the Voldy vibes and Lucius was the perfect partner (or is it victim?) of the Dark Lord's influence.

Lucius Malfoy sat quietly, pondering the chain of events that had led him here. He had had plenty of time to reflect on his life – both the good and the bad, the positive and the negative, the joys and sorrows he had experienced. Now, he cast his mind back to when it had all begun for him. He had been young, oh so young! And full of the self-assured arrogance of youth.

** **

Now, his youth had passed him by, as had his time on this earth. Did he have regrets? Certainly. There were so many things he could have done differently, but would he have done if given the chance? Lucius did not believe in fate; not in the traditional sense, at least. However, he acknowledged that his heritage and those with whom he had kept company in his youth had not left much room for other outcomes.

** **

Leaning back against the pillows behind him, Lucius’ eyes drifted shut as he surrendered to the memories of a time long ago.

** _March, 1971_ **

“Hey, Malfoy.”

Lucius looked up from the book he was reading to regard the witch before him. She had dark, curly hair and heavily lidded eyes which peered at him beneath long eyelashes.

“Black,” he nodded.

“What are you doing tonight?” she asked, taking a seat beside him and watching him with an intense stare.

Lucius shrugged. “Not much. I think I’ll just stay in the common room and finish my book.”

Bellatrix snorted. “Why would you want to waste your time with _ books? _ I have a far better idea! Come with me tonight to a meeting.” She leaned towards him, her hair tickling his face, and whispered, “A _ secret _ meeting, strictly invite-only, for the members of the most prestigious families. Families like ours!”

“Doesn’t sound terribly interesting,” Lucius drawled, bored of her antics. “I get dragged to meetings whenever I go home for the holidays. I don’t really fancy attending them during term as well.”

“You’ll want to go to this meeting!” Bellatrix argued, her dark eyes gleaming excitedly. “The speaker is… distinguished.”

“Who is it?” 

“I can’t say. It’s not safe,” she replied, glancing quickly around the common room. “But I promise you, Malfoy, you’ll be glad you came. Glory awaits us!”

“Aren’t you a bit _ young _ to be sneaking off to meetings?” Lucius asked, raising an eyebrow. Bellatrix, two years his junior, was only a fourth-year.

She threw back her head and regarded him haughtily. “Don’t underestimate me, Malfoy. _ Toujours Pur. _Family honor is everything, and Father has always told me we must choose our path early.” She looked at him expectantly. “So, will you join us?”

“Pass,” Lucius said idly, opening his book again and turning away from her. He jumped as Bellatrix snapped the book shut again.

“Stop being an arse, Malfoy, and just say you’ll come!” she hissed, not accustomed to being refused in such a matter.

“If I agree, will you _ go away _ and leave me in peace, Black?” He sighed.

“Fine,” she grumbled, crossing her arms and pouting. Lucius withheld the urge to roll his eyes at her display. 

“Very well,” he acquiesced. “I shall attend.”

“Meet us by the mirror on the fourth floor – you know the one; it’s enchanted. We’ll sneak out that way.”

“Sneak out where?”

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. “Out of the school, of course.”

“The meeting isn’t being held here?”

Bellatrix threw back her head and laughed. “Good Godric, no.” She stood up. “Just be there at eight-thirty.”

Lucius inclined his head in acknowledgement and went back to his book.

Later that evening, he found himself in Borgin and Burkes with Bellatrix and several other Slytherin students. They were shown to a back room that had been magically expanded to fit a podium and collection of chairs. Lucius moved towards a space near the back, but Bellatrix took hold of his arm and dragged him to the front row. She was giggly with excitement and anticipation, and Lucius felt his curiosity grow. 

Gradually the room filled up with other people. He recognised a few of them as former Hogwarts students who had been in the years above him, Slytherins connected with prestigious and pureblood families. The rest were adults he didn’t recognize. As the new arrivals filed in, they filled the remaining chairs until every seat was occupied.

After a short time, the door banged open, and several people in hoods and silver masks marched into the room, lining one wall. Behind them, a large and fearsome-looking man sauntered in and made his way to the front, standing beside the podium. He wore an open shirt that exposed his barrel chest and trousers that had been torn off below the knees, revealing his muscular calves. His face was hard and cruel, and he eyed the people seated before him with disdain and suspicion. He looked to be in his mid-twenties but was obviously a hard man despite his relatively young appearance.

Lucius felt a twinge of apprehension. He still had no idea why he was here or who would be hosting the meeting, but whoever it was, they were clearly influential and quite possibly a dangerous person to cross.

Before he could turn to Bellatrix and ask her once again why they were here, the door opened and a tall man stepped through, shutting it firmly behind him. He made his way to the podium, robes flowing about his ankles, and faced the room. 

Applause had begun to swell as he entered, and now it reached a crescendo. Around him, some of the attendees – including Bellatrix – were standing as they continued to welcome the speaker. Despite the noise and the palpable excitement, everything around Lucius faded into the background as he regarded the stranger.

He had dark hair and eyes, and pale skin. He appeared to be in his late forties or even older, but it was hard to tell. He looked young and at the same time, ageless. His features held the remnants of what must have once been a handsome face, but now something was odd about it - Lucius couldn’t put his finger on what it was, exactly, but it looked different from a normal face. Less human, somehow.

The man held up his hands for silence, and the cheers and applause immediately died away. There was a gentle rustling as those who had been standing returned to their seats.

“Welcome, my friends,” said the man. “I thank you for coming here tonight. You honor me with your presence.”

The applause briefly resumed, and the man nodded in acknowledgement, smiling indulgently, before continuing.

“I see several new faces among us tonight, and to you I extend a most humble and earnest welcome. For those who do not know me, my name is Lord Voldemort.”

Lucius could barely contain his shock and amazement. He had believed Lord Voldemort, previously known as Tom Riddle, to be little more than a myth. He had, of course, heard of the man and his supposed determination to make the wizarding world great again. He also knew of his fervent belief that Muggleborns should be excluded entirely from the magical world. He had never expected to be seated before the man himself, listening to him speak.

“As wizards and witches of high birth, with noble ancestry, it is important to uphold our legacies. But we face a very real threat, my friends. All around us are inferior people, usurpers who invade our world, steal the secrets and skills we hold dear, and threaten our very way of life!” Voldemort said, his clear voice full of confidence.

A murmur of agreement moved through the room, and Lucius found himself nodding along with the others.

“The scourge that is _ Mudblood _ has infected our world! If we are to continue our noble lines unsullied and pass our knowledge and magic on to our children, we must act now before they overwhelm us!”

“That’s right!” someone called from the back.

“I ask you to join me! Join my noble cause, join my loyal followers—” Voldemort indicated the people in masks, who removed them to reveal their faces at last. Lucius recognised one or two of them, including a man called Nott who knew his father, Abraxas.“—stand with us, and together we can restore greatness to the wizarding world! No longer will we hide in the shadows! As one, we can take full advantage of our superior heritage, take back the world at large, and drive the filthy Muggles and their unworthy offspring back into the dark where they belong!”

Cheers and thunderous applause erupted around the room. Lucius found himself transfixed by the atmosphere, but even more so by Lord Voldemort, whose eyes blazed with conviction. His face, despite its vague _ not-quite-human _ appearance, was full of passion.

“I will join you, my Lord!” Bellatrix rose and stepped forward, her beautiful face revealing her adoration. “I will follow you anywhere!”

Lord Voldemort smiled widely at her, and Lucius found himself wanting to hex her for capturing the man’s attention so effortlessly.

“Such devotion in one so young!” he said. “Come, my dear, and stand by me. What is your name, and how old are you?”

“I am Bellatrix Black, may it please my Lord, and I am fourteen – almost fifteen!” Bella simpered, hurrying to his side.

Voldemort touched her shoulder in welcome, and Bellatrix leaned into his hand, practically purring. “A Black! One of the Sacred Twenty-Eight! You honor your ancestors, Miss Black. I do not usually accept soldiers into my army at such a young age, but I may be prepared to make an exception for someone of your standing.”

“You will not regret this, my Lord!” Bella exclaimed, dropping to her knees in front of Voldemort. “I will be your most faithful servant!”

“I am pleased to hear it,” Voldemort smiled. “Stand, Miss Black.”

Bellatrix rose to her feet, beaming.

“Now, who will be next to pledge their loyalty to our cause?” Voldemort’s smoldering gaze fell on Lucius, and he felt a jolt in his stomach as their eyes met. It was no good. He was lost in those dark, strange orbs, and he knew he must follow.

“I will join you, my Lord,” he declared, stepping forward. He was rewarded by the same expression of joy Bellatrix had been graced with, and his heart soared. 

“A Malfoy,” Voldemort observed. “A most aristocratic line, and another of the Sacred Twenty-Eight! I welcome you with open arms. Come, come! Tell me your name and age.”

“I am Lucius and seventeen, my Lord,” Lucius replied, bowing.

“When did you come of age?” Voldemort inquired, watching him intensely.

“A month ago, my Lord.”

“Wonderful.” Voldemort beamed. “Come, let me shake your hand.”

Lucius nervously extended his hand, and Voldemort took it in both of his, squeezing firmly and holding on for just a little longer than one might usually when greeting another, his eyes never leaving Lucius’ face. The touch electrified him, and his heart beat faster as he murmured his thanks to the man who would change his life.

** _August, 1971_ **

It was almost September, and that meant returning to Hogwarts. It would be Lucius’ last year, and Bellatrix’s fifth. They had been instructed to continue to recruit more Death Eaters and to observe both students and staff to determine who among them could be trusted or useful and who might later prove a threat.

“Be especially careful of Dumbledore,” Voldemort had cautioned the few students who had sworn themselves to him. “He caused me a great deal of trouble when I was a student and proved himself to be a constant nuisance. He never trusted me, but I was far too clever to give him any proof. He is meddlesome, a filthy Mudblood lover, and a blood traitor.”

“Could we not simply kill him, my Lord?” Bellatrix had foolishly asked. Her devotion was so complete that she would do anything for their master and not stop to consider the possible consequences.

“Don’t be a fool, Bellatrix,” Voldemort reprimanded her sharply. “The last thing we need to do is draw attention to ourselves before I am ready to do so. Dumbledore is a powerful wizard, for all his faults. Do you not think he would immediately overpower any mere child who attempted to eradicate him?”

“Forgive me, my Lord,” Bellatrix whispered, cowed. She dropped her head, and Lucius could see her bottom lip wobbling as she desperately tried to hold back tears.

“Do not do anything that would arouse suspicion or otherwise draw attention to yourselves,” Voldemort instructed. “Those of you who are still at Hogwarts, your task is to be my eyes and ears only. Be careful about who you consider inviting into our inner circle, and do not give them any details until you can bring them to me to have their loyalties tested.”

Voldemort was well-known among their number as a highly skilled Legilimens – perhaps the most accomplished Legilimens in existence. He used his powers to ensure his supporters and potential followers were completely loyal to him. No one could keep any secrets from him, and anyone who gave the powerful man the slightest reason to suspect their true intentions was tortured and killed. One of Voldemort’s favorite ways to punish disloyalty and betrayal was to turn the hapless person over to Fenrir Greyback and his pack.

When Lucius had first seen Greyback at the meeting that changed his life, he had not known the man was a ferocious and violent werewolf. With his help, Voldemort had successfully recruited many werewolves to his cause, promising the shunned and exiled creatures a place in wizarding society once he was in control. His entire pack hated wizards, but Greyback was perhaps the most terrifying. He reveled in violence and chaos, absolutely embraced it. His life’s mission, as he often said, was to infect as many humans with lycanthropy as possible, and he particularly loved to target children.

Now, as they left Borgin and Burkes where the meetings were held, Lucius spoke to Bellatrix, who was still silent and brooding.

“You need to _ think _ before you speak, Bella!” he chastised her gently. “Keep a cool head and bide your time! Recklessness is dangerous.”

“I just wanted to please him.” Bella pouted. “I would do it in a heartbeat if he asked me to.”

“As would any of us,” Lucius agreed. “But the Dark Lord is correct. Dumbledore is a powerful and influential man. He already knows about some of his activities, and the last thing we need is for him to realise students support him and intend to take the Mark once we leave school.”

Voldemort had invented a way to brand his followers. The Dark Mark was a tattoo worn on the left forearm that depicted a snake emerging from the mouth of a grinning skull. It worked in a way that was similar to a Protean charm, in that when Voldemort touched his finger to any Mark, the Marks of other Death Eaters would burn. It was a way of quickly summoning his followers whenever he required their presence.

However, Voldemort refused to grant any of his underage followers the Mark until such time as they came of age and graduated from Hogwarts. “It’s far too risky,” Voldemort had explained. “The chances of someone seeing the Mark on your skin are too great, and if it is discovered that I am recruiting from within the school, it would be disastrous for our cause.”

Lucius stopped Bellatrix, placing a gentle hand on her arm. “Bella. I have only one year left. The Dark Lord will depend on you and the others to continue gathering information for the cause. You must hold your true loyalties close to your heart and reveal them to no one.”

The younger witch sniffed and nodded. “I know, Lucius. I’ll do better, I promise.’

The blond boy smiled. “I know you will.”

** _July, 1972_ **

“Young master Malfoy. Stay for a moment, if you will.”

Lucius nodded and remained in his seat while the rest of the Death Eaters filed out of the room. They had recently moved their meetings to the Nott estate, as Borgin and Burkes was under constant watch by the Ministry’s Aurors. 

By this time, Bartemus Crouch, the Minister for Magic, had issued an edict authorising Aurors to use unforgivable curses on suspected Death Eaters, and those who were captured were sometimes given to the Demontors who ruled Azkaban. The war was ramping up, and the wizarding world was now fully aware of Voldemort’s presence and aims.

Voldemort walked towards Lucius, smiling. “You have pleased me immensely today. The information you have provided about the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore’s activities will be of great use to me.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” Lucius replied, standing to bow before his master.

“Come, have a drink with me,” Voldemort invited, gesturing towards the small table at the back of the room. When Lucius settled across from him, Voldemort appraised him silently. When he spoke, his voice was smooth, but his satisfaction was palpable. “We have much to celebrate. You are proving yourself to be one of my most loyal and useful servants, and you have graduated from Hogwarts. It is time you took the Mark.”

“I have waited for this day,” Lucius replied, taking the tumbler Voldemort handed him. “I will gladly take the Mark and continue to serve you.”

Voldemort looked into Lucius’ eyes and placed a cool hand on his shoulder. “We shall perform the ceremony tonight.”

Lucicus shivered, both in anticipation and also in response to Voldemort’s touch and searing gaze. It lit a fire below his belly, and he hoped that the branding would not be the only initiation he would receive that night.

* * *

Hours later, Lucius, Voldemort and several of his older Death Eaters stood in a small circle. Nott, Scabior, Dolohov, Yaxley, Travers and Rowle were among the witnesses.

“Step forward, Lucius,” Voldemort instructed, “and present your left forearm.”

Lucius hastened to follow the instruction, rolling up his sleeve to reveal the smooth, pale skin beneath.

Voldemort took out his wand. “Lucius, with this brand your are handing your life over to me. You are pledging your neverending loyalty and allegiance and swearing to serve me always. You will willingly contribute to the cause in any way I require, with no hesitation and without question. Do you swear to do all this and more?”

“I do, my Lord,” Lucius replied, staring reverently into his master’s eyes.

“Then I gift you my highest token of honor.” Voldemort lifted his head and regarded each of the witnesses in turn. “May you all bear witness to this occasion, as Lucius Malfoy officially joins our ranks.”

He caressed Lucius’ arm sensuously, lightly running his fingertips over the flesh. Lucius closed his eyes at the sensation, then opened them again as he felt Voldemort’s wand tip above his wrist. His master whispered a spell, and a burning sensation radiated immediately outwards, racing under his skin and towards his fingertips on one end and his shoulder on the other. Lucius clenched his teeth against the pain, determined not to cry out.

“Yes, bear the pain. Embrace it,” Voldemort murmured, holding Lucius’ eyes as the Mark seared his skin. After what seemed like a small eternity, the pain began to recede, and Voldemort withdrew his wand.

“It is done,” he announced to the men surrounding him. “Lucius Malfoy bears the Mark and is one of us.”

A cheer went up around the room, and Lucius smiled despite the stinging that remained. He looked down in his arm and admired the freshly imprinted Mark, the intricately styled skull and serpent. The design rippled gently as he watched.

“Thank you, my Lord,” Lucius said quietly, meeting Voldemort’s eyes once more. “I promise to serve you well.”

“Now, we celebrate!” Voldemort cried, clapping his hands. “Come, let us retire to the drawing room. Nott, order your elves to fetch us food and drink!”

“Yes, my Lord.” Nott bowed and turned away to summon one of the small creatures who maintained the manor.

* * *

Much later that evening, everyone present had imbibed a great deal of food and drink. The mood was spirited. Gradually, the older men excused themselves to retire for the evening, but Lucius remained in his place beside Voldemort, where he had been invited to sit hours earlier – a place of honor. 

When at last Rowle, the last of the other Death Eaters to depart, stood unsteadily and bowed before bidding them goodnight, Lucius felt his heartbeat increase in anticipation. Throughout the night, Voldemort had been generous with his affections, offering Lucius many a subtle caress on the hand, thigh, or arm. Each touch of his master’s hand had sent a jolt of electricity through the blond man’s body and to his groin, so by the time they were alone, Lucius’ cock was so hard he could barely stand it. He _ ached _ for release.

“Come, Lucius. Let us also retire,” the Dark Lord invited, standing and extending his hand. 

Lucius stood and placed his hand in Voldemort’s, allowing himself to be led through the dimly-lit halls and to his expansive chambers. Once inside, Voldemort wandlessly shut the door and locked it, before turning to Lucius with a wolflike grin that made the young Death Eater tremble.

Voldemort reached for Lucius and pushed him up against the closed door, grasping his chin and turning his head to the side. With his slim neck exposed, Voldemort began to nip at the sensitive skin there, eliciting a soft moan from Lucius. He slipped his other hand down to grasp the hardness that strained against the younger man’s trousers. Lucius’ hips bucked forward, desperate for more friction.

Chuckling against Lucius’ throat, Voldemort removed the hand from between his thighs and instead grasped his hips, pulling him forward and grinding his own hard cock against Lucius’ thigh. 

“My Lord…” Lucius gasped.

“Yes, Lucius?” Voldemort purred in his ear.

“Please… I need…”

“Tell me. Tell me what you need, Lucius.”

“I need… to feel you.”

“Very well.” Voldemort drew away from Lucius, leaving him wanting and desperate for his master’s touch once again. 

As he watched, Voldemort opened his robes before undoing his trousers and allowing them to fall to his ankles. His cock bulged against his shorts, straining at the material and seeming to demand to be freed from its confines.

“Come, Lucius.” Voldemort leered, gesturing. “Feel me.”

Lucius started forward, unsure. He had never been with a man before. A witch once or twice, but never a man. He wasn’t sure what was expected of him.

Smiling indulgently, seeming to sense his hesitancy, Voldemort continued, “Feel me in your mouth, Lucius.”

Wordlesslessly, Lucius moved before the Dark Lord and dropped to his knees. He reached up and grasped the waistband of his underwear, pulling it forward and drawing the garment down so that it joined the trousers pooled around Voldemort’s ankles.

The Dark Lord’s cock sprang free, bobbing gently. A drop of cloudy liquid glistened on its tip. Lucius leaned forward, grasping it in his hand, gently squeezing the head and using his thumb to spread the bead of liquid around it. The Dark Lord hissed in pleasure above him, a sound Lucius took as encouragement. 

Opening his mouth, Lucius took the end of Voldemort’s cock in his mouth, closing his lips over it and gently caressing the tip with his tongue. Lucius slid his head forward, and the Dark Lord grabbed a handful of his long blond locks, pushing him down further. Voldemort’s cock hit the back of his throat, causing Lucus to gag and pull back slightly.

“Relax, Lucius,” Voldemort urged him. “Go slowly; let yourself adjust. If you have had a witch do this to you before, remember what you liked and didn’t like. Think of her technique and let that guide you.”

Lucius thought back to the one time a witch had taken his own cock in her mouth. She had been inexperienced herself, had used rather too much teeth a few times, but he had enjoyed the feeling of her hot, wet mouth and the swirling of her tongue. Keeping his own experiences in mind, he concentrated on keeping his teeth tucked away and instead used his lips to create a firmer seal, using his tongue as the witch had done to him. He was rewarded by a thrust of the Dark Lord’s hips and a moan of approval.

After a few minutes, Voldemort released his hold on Lucius’ hair and pushed him back. His cock was freed from Lucius’ mouth with a soft _ pop _ and bounced against his lower abdomen, glistening wetly in the dim light.

“Stand, dear boy,” Voldemort instructed. Lucius did as he was told, his heart hammering nervously in anticipation of what he was sure would come next. 

“Strip.”

Lucius swallowed, suddenly self-conscious. _ What if he doesn’t like me? _ he fretted. _ What if I displease him? _ Still, he could not disobey an order from the Dark Lord, and so he began to slowly remove his clothing. 

First, he removed his robes, folding them over a nearby chair, followed by his jacket, tie and shirt. Standing bare-chested, he undid his belt and kicked off his dragonhide boots, allowing his trousers to drop to the floor before deftly stepping out of them.

Standing only in his underwear, he looked down at the floor, afraid to go any further or look upon Voldemort’s face, lest he see disinterest or disgust in the older man’s expression.

The Dark Lord’s hand drifted into his field of vision, the fingers gripping his chin, and lifted Lucus’ head. Forced to meet his master’s eyes, Lucius saw not disgust but desire burning in those strange dark orbs. 

“You are a beautiful boy,” Voldemort murmured in appreciation. “One on the cusp of manhood. Tonight, you will make that transition in more ways than one.” He began to remove his own clothing, dropping the garments unceremoniously on the floor.

“My Lord,” Lucius stammered. “I’ve never… don’t know how… will it—?”

“Hurt? Yes, it may at first.” Voldemort nodded. “But don’t worry, dear Lucius. I will give you time to adjust; I’ll bring you to and over the brink like none other could. Trust in me.”

Lucius felt his whole body shudder as Vodemort reached for his hips, caressing them before sliding his underwear over them and rendering him completely naked before his master.

“A pleasant sight.” Voldemort smiled, grasping Lucius’ cock firmly and pumping it with excruciating slowness. Lucius groaned loudly, sure that he would explode at any moment, but to his enormous chagrin, Voldemort appeared to sense his precarious position and released him. “We can’t have that,” he chuckled. 

Taking his hand instead, Vodemort led Lucius across the room to the bed and bade him lie down on his stomach. Having done so, the Dark Lord grabbed his hips so that Lucius was propped up on his knees, his chest on the mattress and his arse in the air.

“I need you to relax,” Voldemort cautioned as he squeezed Lucius’ cheeks. “I’m going to start with a finger, so you become accustomed to the sensation. If you tense up, it will cause you more pain.” 

“Yes, my Lord,” Lucius gasped.

He felt Voldemort’s long and delicate finger rubbing against his arsehole, gently pressing against the puckered flesh. The man whispered an incantation, and suddenly there was moisture there. The finger continued to probe, until quite suddenly it slid in, presenting Lucius with a strange and slightly uncomfortable sensation. The Dark Lord ceased movement, simply leaving his finger there so Lucius could get used to the feeling.

After a few moments, Voldemort inserted his finger further, pushing against his walls until it hit something that caused a bolt of sensation to pass through Lucius’ groin, making him gasp in pleasure. He continued to gently massage the spot, and Lucius was very nearly overwhelmed by the new, yet surprisingly intense feeling it produced.

“I think you’re ready, now,” Voldemort said, and he slowly withdrew the finger, leaving Lucius feeling bereft. That was quickly quashed, however, when he felt the tip of the Dark Lord’s cock probing at his entrance in much the way his finger had earlier. Unconsciously, he tensed up and was slapped firmly on the arse in response.

“Remember, you must relax!” Voldemort chided him gently, caressing the area he had just smacked, which stung in a way that was not entirely unpleasant. “Let us try again. Trust in your master.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Lucius replied and willed his body to return to the state it had been in moments earlier. Gradually, he felt the tightness in his back and thighs lessen and concentrated on relaxing his arse. The Dark Lord once again positioned himself, whispering the lubricating charm a second time and moving his cock around the area to spread the lubricant.

All too soon, Lucius felt the pressure increase as Voldemort slowly began to slide his cock into his arse. He felt entirely too full, and the sting of pain secondary to the overwhelming sense of fullness, but he was desperate to please his master and so did his best to remain as relaxed as possible. 

“Good, Lucius, very good,” Voldemort gasped quietly as he pushed the head of his cock in. He stilled his movements, allowing Lucius to adjust to the feeling as he had with his finger. Gradually, the discomfort lessened until he felt himself spreading his knees wider and pushing back, wanting more. The Dark Lord hummed in approval and slowly pushed further in until his cock was almost entirely sheathed. Lucius whined softly at the mixture of pleasure and pain.

One again Voldemort stilled his movements, letting Lucius’ walls settle around the intrusion, before slowly beginning to move. “Such a pretty arse,” he whispered softly. “A pretty arse on a pretty boy. Do you enjoy my cock in your arse, Lucius?”

“Yes, my Lord,” Lucius gasped. The sensations were overwhelming. The head of Voldemort’s cock brushed against the sensitive little spot inside him with every thrust, and the blond man could feel a tensing below his belly which told him he would not be able to hold back much longer.

Voldemort’s thrusts began to speed up and became more frenzied. No longer able to stand it, Lucius grasped his own cock in his hand and began to pump. The liquid that had seeped from the tip allowed for lubrication, increasing the pleasure he felt as the Dark Lord fucked him.

Suddenly his orgasm was upon him, a warm wave spreading out from his groin as his come shot across his belly and the sheets below him. He cried out, desperately clutching the sheets with his free hand as he rode out his pleasure. Moments later, with a final hard thrust, Voldemort groaned and emptied into Lucius’ arse.

“You did very well,” gasped the Dark Lord, reaching over to run his fingers through Lucius’ blond locks before slowly withdrawing. Lucius was dimly aware of the strange, slightly gaping feeling he was left with, and a wetness that dripped down onto his balls.

“Thank you, my Lord,” Lucius replied softly.

Suddenly aware that his legs were trembling from the aftereffects of his orgasm and the exertions of holding himself up, Lucius let himself collapse into the sheets. The bed was soft and comfortable. He was quite exhausted and was sure sleep would be upon him soon. 

As his eyes closed, Lucius dimly heard Voldemort whisper a cleaning charm, reveling in the tingling sensation, as he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Lucius awoke alone the next morning, the bed empty. His head throbbed, and his stomach was slightly queasy from the alcohol he had imbibed the previous evening. 

Turning his head gingerly to one side, he noticed a hangover potion lying on the bedside table and reached for it gratefully. Removing the stopper, he quickly swallowed it back, allowing the contents to spread through his body, soothing his headache and settling his stomach.

Throwing back the covers, Lucius noticed for the first time he was still naked, his arse still tender, although not unpleasantly so. He got dressed and walked out of the room with a spring in his step, ready to face the day.

****   
  
** _September, 1974  
  
_ **

Lucius knocked on the door of Voldemort’s study.

“Enter,” came the response. He stepped over the threshold, nervous.

“Ahh, Lucius. Come, sit. Do you have news for me?”

“Actually, my Lord, I do. My father has decided it’s time I married.”

Voldemort looked up, his expression slightly bored. “Is that all? I expected you to have an update.”

Lucius bowed his head. “My apologies, my Lord. We are still following lines of inquiry in regards to our infiltration of the Ministry positions.”

“So, instead, you bring me inconsequential news about weddings,” Voldemort grumbled.

“Forgive me, my Lord. I hoped to seek your permission to follow my father’s wishes.”

Voldemort grunted. “And who has he suggested as your bride?”

“Narcissa Black, my Lord.”

At this, Voldemort’s face finally showed some interest. “Bellatrix’s sister?”

“The same.”

Voldemort considered for a moment before waving a dismissive hand. “Very well. Marry the girl if you wish.”

“Thank you, my Lord.” Lucius stood. “Uh… there is one more thing.”

“What is it?” Voldemort asked, a touch impatiently. 

“There is a curse… in both our lines,” Lucius explained. “It prevents either person from straying outside the marriage bed, lest their.. Intimate parts… become inflamed, weeping and extremely painful. We can no longer—” he looked down at his feet, embarrassed to go into further detail. After their first encounter, their couplings had been infrequent, yet passionate.

“A shame,” Voldemort replied, although he did not seem terribly upset by the news. It caused a stab of pain in Lucius’ chest that he did not want to acknowledge, even to himself. “You may go.”

Lucius nodded, turning away quickly to hide the sudden stinging of his eyes. He refused to appear weak in front of the Dark Lord. He was almost at the door when Voldemort spoke once more, calling his name. He turned to see his master with a small book that appeared to be a diary in his hand.

“This is very important to me,” he said. “It may not look like much, but it is a vital part of my future plans. I am entrusting it to you, one of my most faithful and trustworthy servants. Guard it with your life, Lucius.”

Stepping forward, Lucius reached out to take the book. “I will do as you say, my Lord.” He tucked it inside his robes and swept from the room to give his father the news.  
  
  
  
  
**_April, 1980_  
**  
  
Lucius hurried into the large room with several other Death Eaters and took his seat at the long table where meetings were held. Voldemort was sitting at his accustomed place, looking furious. 

“Quickly! Stop dawdling!” the Dark Lord snapped at the few stragglers who had come in behind Lucius.

Once everyone was seated and ready, Voldemort began to speak. “Severus has brought me some very disturbing information. A prophecy has been foretold, one that threatens my very being, and we must act now!”

Turning to Severus Snape, a young graduate of Hogwarts who had only recently joined their ranks, he commanded, “Tell them, Severus! Leave nothing out!”

Lucius listened in horrified awe as Snape described what he had heard while eavesdropping on Dumbledore, and a woman named Trelawney at the Hog’s Head. She had gone into a trance and claimed that a child would be born in July who would have the ability to defeat the Dark Lord. His parents would be those who had thrice defied Voldemort, and the child would have powers beyond his comprehension.

“Forget everything else!” Voldemort ordered the table. “Your primary mission — all of you! — is to find this child and their Merlin-cursed parents! Begin immediately! Find out who is expecting a child in July! Do not fail me, or it will be the worse for you! You are dismissed!” 

The Dark Lord ordered them from the room with an impatient flick of his wrist. Lucius joined the others in hastily rising from the table and exiting, his mind severely troubled.

** _June, 1980_  
**

Lucius had been summoned to the Dark Lord’s study. He was nervous about approaching – since Snape’s discovery about the prophecy, his master had been in a constant rage. Many of his Death Eaters had felt his wrath over the smallest things. Once a fervent but calculating and meticulous leader, Voldemort was becoming more unpredictable, and Lucius feared the man he knew and still loved was becoming unhinged.

He knew the Dark Lord had ventured further into the Dark Arts than others would even dream and suspected strongly that something within the older man was broken, but he did not know what. Voldemort jealously guarded a great many secrets, from even his most loyal and trusted allies.

Now, Lucius approached the open door and rapped softly. “Come in, Lucius,” the Dark Lord barked.

“You asked to see me, my Lord?”

“Is there any news on the whereabouts of the pregnant witches?”

“My Lord, there are several pregnant witches who are of no threat. Their babies are not due until after the date given by Trelawney, and their parents are not involved in the resistance. The Longbottoms and the Potters are both expecting next month, but we have not been able to locate them at this time. They are heavily protected by the Order.”

Lucius privately feared what the Dark Lord might do and so was in no hurry to uncover more information. His own son, Draco, had been born just two weeks ago after years of trying and failing to conceive. Narcissa had miscarried several times; this pregnancy had taken a severe toll on her body. The birth had been long and hard, and the mediwitch who had attended had cautioned that, even if she were able to carry to term a second time, she may well not survive the ordeal. She had advised that the Malfoys be content with the child they had and not endanger Narcissa’s life or well being by persisting with trying for more.

Narcissa, who had two sisters, had wanted to raise several children and was heartbroken. Lucius had been raised with the motto of “An heir and a spare,” and his father had been most put out that they had elected to stop at one child, despite the fact Lucius himself was an only child.

“If the boy does not live or does not produce an heir of his own when he reaches manhood, the Malfoy line will die out!” Abraxas had thundered just days previously. “Put that useless cock to work, boy, and get another child in that woman of yours!”

As if he had read his thoughts – which Lucius thought was entirely possible given the Dark Lord’s proficiency in the art of Legilimency – Voldemort remarked, “How is your young son, Lucius?”

“He is well, thank you, my Lord,” Lucius replied. “Although he really only eats, sleeps, and squalls at this stage.”

“Oh course, of course.” Voldemort nodded absently. “Well, I’m sure you would do anything to keep him safe, would you not?”

Lucus blanched at what was undoubtedly a subtle threat. “Yes, my Lord. I would protect him with my life.”

“As you would protect mine?” Voldemort pressed, his dark eyes boring into Lucius’ blue ones.

“Without a doubt, my Lord,” Lucius answered immediately.

“Good. You are dismissed. Find me the location of the Potters and the Longbottoms!”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Lucius turned sharply and left the room, his robe swirling about him, before the Dark Lord could call him back.

_ **October 1980** _

  
The Death Eaters were once again seated around the table, convened for a meeting. 

“Brothers — and sister,” Voldemort began, acknowledging Bellatrix, the lone female Death Eater in the room, “May I introduce the newest member of our ranks. He will, I hope, prove to be a far more effective ally than the buffoons seated around me. He is a member of the Order, and will henceforth become our spy, having made the decision to align himself to our cause.”

Voldemort indicated a small, scrawny, and slightly scruffy figure near the far end of the table. “May I introduce Peter Pettigrew.”

Lucius eyed the boy – for he looked to be very young, barely out of his teens – with disdain. He was twitchy, with a ratlike face and small eyes, and looked like he jumped at sudden loud noises. How he had what it took to be a member of the Dark Lord’s army, Lucius did not know. 

However, the fact that they had a spy who could feed them information from directly within the Order was surely a good thing, and Lucius hoped it would calm Voldemort’s constant and violent anger.

**_October 1981_  
**  
The Floo at Malfoy Manor roared, and Bellatrix stepped through. “Lucius!” she called. “Where are you?”

Hearing the commotion, Lucius stepped into the foyer where his sister-in-law had appeared. “What is it, Bella?”

“There is news!” she cackled. “Pettigrew has information for us! We are sure to be summoned at any mom—” 

As if on cue, Lucius felt his Mark burn. The Dark Lord was calling them. Anxious energy flooding his veins, he immediately joined Bellatrix in apparating to where his master was waiting. Upon arrival, there was an excited hum as Voldemort’s Death Eaters appeared from wherever they had been prior to the summons.

All too soon, the Dark Lord was sweeping importantly into the room, his robes billowing around him. He exuded an air of triumph. “Sit, all of you! Wormtail has momentous news!”

Everyone moved to the table, robes rustling as they took their seats and looked expectantly at the diminutive, obsequious, and yet cowardly man who had been among their numbers for the past year.

“Yes, yes my Lord..! Fantastic news! I have found out important information.. such luck… and I came immediately to you, my Lord, to tell you right away…”

Lucius rolled his eyes, although he was careful not to let the Dark Lord see him do it. 

“Get on with it, Wormtail!” Voldemort hissed impatiently. 

“Yes, my Lord. The Potters…. The Potters have made me their secret-keeper! I know exactly where they are! Sirius convinced them to give the honor to me instead, saying I was less likely to be targeted!” He sniggered, and his face twitched in a decidedly rat-like fashion. “They live in Godric’s Hollow. I can show you exactly where, my Lord.”

Lucius’ heart sank, although he was careful to keep his face neutral. The Dark Lord had decided that, out of the Potters and the Longbottoms – both who had defied him three times as per the prophecy – the Potters’ boy, Harry, was more of a threat. 

“Excellent! I will go there tonight, and I will remove this threat once and for all! No mere child can be allowed to interfere with my plans.”

Before he could stop himself — Lucius blamed the unbidden thoughts of his own son that had risen to the forefront of his mind, knowing what Voldemort intended to do to the Potters’ infant — he blurted out, “My Lord, it will be dangerous!”

Voldemort’s head whipped around to regard him, and his eyes narrowed in displeasure. Aware of the whole table staring him, Lucius stammered on, “What I mean to say, my Lord, is that the Potters will likely have additional security around their wards – curses, hexes – perhaps a plan, a concentrated movement with us there to support you—”

Voldemort held up a hand, a sardonic chuckle issuing from his lips. “Lucius, you worry too much. No, this must end _ tonight! _ I will go to the Potters’, destroy them all, and then I will be entirely unopposed!”

Lucius opened his mouth, perhaps to foolishly protest further, but Voldemort stood, his mind made up.

“Your concerns are baseless. Trust in me. I know what I am doing, and I am not so hesitant that I would spare a child. I would not be Lord Voldemort if I was so easily swayed by sentimentality.” 

He looked around the room with a sadistic smile. “I do very bad things, and I do them very well.”

**_February 1982_  
**  
Lucius sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He felt as if he had aged six years, although it had been only six months since the Dark Lord had disappeared and the Wizarding war had ended.

Something had gone terribly awry that fateful night when the Dark Lord had left to murder Lily and James Potter and their son, Harry. The Death Eaters had felt a burning pain in their Marks unlike anything they had felt before, and the Marks had _ bled. _ Desperately, they had tried to Apprarate to where he was, but with the Fidelius Charm in place none of them could reach him.

Then they had made Pettigrew tell them where the Potters’ house was, but even this could not help them locate their master. Upon arrival, they found only the bodies of Lily and James. Harry was nowhere to be seen. In addition, Severus Snape had failed to arrive, and nobody knew where he was.

Once it became evident the Dark Lord had disappeared, the Aurors began rounding up known and suspected Death Eaters in earnest, led by Alastor Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt. Trials were held and many of the inner circle were sentenced to Azkaban. 

Bellatrix, Barty Crouch Junior, Avery, and many others were given life sentences. Among those convicted, to Lucius’ wry amusement, was James Potter’s best friend Sirus Black – Narcissa and Bellatrix’s cousin. Pettigrew, ever concerned with protecting his own arse, had framed Black and blamed him for betraying the Potters.

It had worked, because the only people who knew the Potters had made Pettigrew their secret-keeper instead of Black were the Potters, Pettigrew, and Black themselves.

Lucius was one of the few who escaped Azkaban after claiming to be under the_ Imperius _ curse. Years ago, he would have proudly announced his allegiance to the Dark Lord, as Bellatrix had done as she was sentenced, but now he had a family to think of. 

And frankly, though he scarcely wanted to admit it to himself, Lucius had grown increasingly perturbed about the Dark Lord’s state of mind and his aspirations ever since Snape had first revealed the existence of the prophecy.

To his surprise, Snape had somehow managed to con Dumbledore into taking him on as Hogwarts’ Potions master. Lucius didn’t know whether to be impressed or disgusted.

He felt warm arms around his shoulders, the touch interrupting his musing, and leaned into Narcissa’s warm embrace. Over the years he had come to genuinely love the witch. She was witty, stoic and supportive, and held a fierce love for their son. Through everything, she had stood by him as a pureblooded wife should, but she had also become a trusted confidant and adviser.

“It’s over,” she murmured. “We can move on with our lives now, Luicus.”

“Yes,” Lucius sighed. Pulling her into his lap, he captured her lips in a searing kiss.

**_August 1992_  
**  
Lucius was panicking. They were doing raids on the homes of former Death Eaters and other known supporters of the Dark Arts, confiscating Dark artifacts and fining or imprisoning people found to be in possession of them. And Lucius still had that diary the Dark Lord had given him the year before he disappeared.

“Lucius, it’s time to go to Diagon Alley!” Narcissa called from the foyer. “Hurry or we’ll miss our appointment at Madam Malkin’s!”

Young Draco, about to begin his second year at Hogwarts, came rushing into his study. “Come _ on _ , Father! Let’s _ go! _” his son said impatiently, folding his arms over his chest.

“Very well,” Lucius sighed, smiling indulgently at his son. He stood and followed him out, trying to quell his sickening dread as he slipped the diary into the folds of his robes.

In bustling Diagon Alley, Lucius kept a sharp eye out for an appropriate place to ditch the diary. It was burning a hole in his robe pocket, and he couldn’t wait to be rid of it. He assumed the Dark Lord was not coming back, so there was no point in protecting it any longer.

The opportunity finally came when he encountered Arthur Weasley and some of his brood in Flourish and Blotts, where they were purchasing what few items they could afford. Lucuis sneered at the sight. He really couldn’t stand Weasley – it was his fault they were doing these raids, after all. He spotted the Weasley girl’s cauldron, already full of books, and surreptitiously dropped the diary in with the rest of the items while the Weasleys were distracted by his jibes. 

As he walked away, he smirked to himself. How fitting it would be when one of the Weasley children were found to be in possession of a Dark artifact! Perhaps the man would lose his low-paying job at the Ministry – wouldn’t that be a laugh?

_ That’s the last I’ll see of that old thing, _ Lucius thought to himself in satisfaction.

**_May 1993_  
**  
Lucius sat in his study, his head in his hands, and stared at the… _ thing _ on his desk. All that remained of the diary he had dropped in the Weasley girl’s cauldron last year was a blackened, shriveled husk with a huge hole in the middle. 

It had contained Dark magic, all right - the darkest. A piece of the Dark Lord’s soul, as it turned out. It had possessed the girl and released a Basilisk – a _ Basilisk _, Merlin be damned! – from the bowels of the castle, which had petrified several students and the caretaker’s cat, nearly resulting in the closure of the school. 

Lucius himself had been removed from his position on the board of governors after he had tried and failed to shut the rest of the board up and get Dumbledore sacked. He was thoroughly in disgrace.

He knocked the diary to the floor, cursing. He wished he had never seen the bloody thing.

**_August 1994_  
** **  
**“Father, are you ready?” came Draco’s excited voice.

They were off to the Quidditch World Cup match between Bulgaria and Ireland. They had the best seats, of course, the box reserved for the Minster and his guests. Draco had talked of little else for weeks.

Yes, Draco, I’m ready,” Lucius smiled. He rarely smiled these days, except where his son was concerned. He was growing into a fine boy, although Lucius sometimes worried at Draco’s arrogance. Appearances were important, and sometimes Draco lacked the outward graces and mannerisms one should display in public. He did not know subtlety. Furthermore, he let his rivalry with and resentment of the Potter boy get to him far too often.

Lucius thought very little of the Potter boy, though he was secretly glad the child had lived. Personally, he thought the boy would not amount to much; however he was, ironically, very similar to Draco in a lot of ways. It really was a pity the boy had been sorted into Gryffindor and ran about with blood traitors, Mudbloods and Muggle lovers.

Shaking off his preoccupation with the Potter boy, he returned to the matter at hand. Tonight, he had plans. He had been recruited to have a bit of fun, for old times sake. They were going to don their old robes and masks and engage in a bit of Muggle-baiting. Perhaps scare a few other people, have a laugh.

Personally, Lucius didn’t really want to join in – not because he didn’t like the idea of baiting and torturing a few Muggles, of course, but because of the risk he’d be caught. He’d worked hard to avoid Azkaban and retain a semblance of respectability in the Wizarding world once the Dark Lord disappeared, and since then he had improved and enriched his reputation. He was a highly thought-of man, even with the inconvenience of the Basilisk fiasco a year previously.

Later that evening, Lucius slipped away, telling Draco he needed to meet with someone from the Ministry, and hurried to join the others. They had already begun and had the Muggle family who lived in the farmhouse nearby suspended in the air, terrified and screaming. 

They attacked the camp next, starting fires, destroying tents, and just generally causing chaos. Lucius found he was actually _ enjoying _ himself, and grinned behind his mask as he blasted a nearby tent out of his way. The screaming and disarray was a heady mix that invigorated him. 

Suddenly, a flash of green appeared over his head and the screaming began anew. Lucius looked up and felt a sharp twist of fear pierce his stomach. It was _ Mosrmodre _, the Dark Lord’s symbol. The one he used when he or his Death Eaters had attacked, that they used to spread terror.

Luciuspanicked, not consciously aware of the irony in his reaction to something that has once amused him. He had to find Draco and get out of here _ now. _ He Disapparated, desperate to find his son and escape the scene.

**_June 1995_  
**  
“Is it true, darling? Is he back?” Narcisssa’s face was pinched with fear. 

“Yes,” Lucius sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “He’s back.”

“And whole?”

“He has a body, yes. But whole? I’m not so sure about that.”

“What do you mean, Lucius?” Narcissa whispered.

“I cannot say any more or explain,” Lucius replied. “It’s better that you know as little as possible.”

“And what does this mean for us?”

“I must resume my place,” Lucius said heavily. “To do otherwise would be a death sentence for us all. The Dark Lord has no patience for defectors or hesitators.”

A week later, Voldemort was in their house. Lucius remembered the old Dark Lord with something like reverence; the one that had emerged from the cauldron was nothing like the man he had once been. He was cold. Violent. Evil. He burned with a manic desire for revenge.

Lucius was afraid.

**_July 1996_  
**  
Lucius sighed heavily and shivered. Azkaban was dank, cold, and filthy. Where had it all gone so _ wrong? _

But, of course, he knew precisely where it had all gone wrong. 

The Dark Lord had vastly underestimated Potter and his friends. They all had. The Department of Mysteries trap had been an utter fiasco. The Boy Who Lived had turned up, of course, but he had not been alone. He had brought _ friends. _

The Mudblood and Ron Weasley, of course, but also the Weasley girl, Longbottom, and Lovegood. Not only had they fought back, but they had fought _ well, _ with skills far beyond their age. They had fought so well that they had actually managed to push the team of Death Eaters back, and they had been forced to chase the teenagers through the Department of Mysteries, duelling all the while.

And then, in the Death Chamber just as they were gaining the upper hand, the Order had shown up and the tide had turned. The prophecy was broken, Potter and his friends escaped into the Ministry atrium, and Voldemort himself arrived, beyond furious.

Meanwhile, all but Bellatrix, including Lucius himself, were arrested.

He later found out that Potter had _actually _used an unforgivable on Bellatrix, when he faced her down in the atrium, blinded with anger after the dark-haired witch had sent her cousin – Potter’s godfather – through the veil and into nothingness. His heart had not been in it, however, and so he had achieved little more than slightly tickling Bella. 

The Dark Lord very nearly had Potter then, having escaped the carnage below, but was thwarted by Dumbledore, who had turned up just as Voldemort was about to deliver the killing curse and end the boy’s legacy once and for all.

In his rage, the Dark Lord had declared Lucius and the others must remain in Azkaban, as he deemed them too worthless to trouble himself with any longer. 

He had had but one visit from Narcissa, having forbidden her from coming to see him after the first time and emphasising she must keep Draco far away from the infamous prison. He did not want either of them to see him like this – bowed, broken, and filthy, dressed in rags, a shadow of his former self. 

In hushed and fearful tones, she had described how the Dark Lord had taken full control of Malfoy Manor. She and Draco were practically prisoners in their own home, and she despaired. Lucius felt an unbearable guilt at the news. It was his foolishness that had put them in this situation. His family was in grave danger, and he was entirely to blame.

**_August 1996_  
**  
“Malfoy. You have a visitor.”

Lucius looked up at the guard in surprise. Who would be visiting him now? He had forbidden his wife and son from coming, and he could think of no one else who would have the desire to see him – not even the remaining Death Eaters, previously among his friends, who had turned their backs on him just as surely as the Dark Lord himself had.

“Hurry up, scumbag. Get up.” The jailer looked at him with obvious malice as he opened the door to Lucius’ cell.

Curious despite himself, Lucius rose from his hard bed and stood in front of the guard, who immediately shackled him at the ankles and wrists. His days were achingly monotonous, and he felt he might be slowly losing his grip on sanity. But of course, that happened to everyone here eventually. Between the deplorable conditions, the treatment from the human guards, and the soul-sucking presence of the dementors, everyone went mad in here sooner or later.

After several slow, shuffling minutes, they arrived at one of the visiting rooms. The door was unlocked, and as the guard shoved him unceremoniously inside, he growled, “You’ve got five minutes, Malfoy.”

Lucius stumbled in his restraints but managed to keep from falling on his face. He looked up once he had regained his balance and gasped, his heart stuttering.

“Narcissa? What are you _ doing _ here?”

“I’m sorry, Lucius. I know you told me to stay away, but this… I can’t… It’s too much!” Her aristocratic features, now riddled with premature lines and etched with constant worry, crumpled. She dropped her face into her delicate hands and began to sob.

Fear now pounding in his chest, Lucius stumbled to the table and collapsed into the hard metal chair opposite this wife.

“What’s happened?” he croaked. “Are you alright? Is Draco? Have they hurt you?”

Narcissa only continued to wail, seemingly too overcome with grief to speak.

Reaching across the space between them, Lucius grasped her wrists and gently pulled them away from her face. “_ Tell me, _ Cissy!”

“The Dark Lord.. he has—” Narcissa gulped, taking a deep breath in an attempt to steady herself. “—he has forced Draco to take the Mark.”

The horror that crept into Lucius’ bones was like nothing he had ever felt before.

“No—he can’t have—are you sure, Cissy?”

“I was there when it happened,” she whispered, staring down at her hands. “But that’s not all.” She lifted her head, her beautiful blue eyes swimming with tears. “He has ordered Draco to assassinate Albus Dumbledore.”

Lucius thought he might vomit and struggled to hold down the meagre contents of the small meal he had eaten several hours earlier. “Our Draco…?” he stammered. “But… how can a boy kill Albus Dumbledore? Surely the Dark Lord doesn’t think he can succeed?”

“He knows he will not!” Narcissa cried, bursting into fresh sobs. “But I have asked Severus to protect him. He took an Unbreakable Vow. I don’t know if it will be enough, but I had no other options.” She grasped his hands. “What will I do, Lucius? Tell me what I can do to protect our son!”

“I think you have done all you can,” Lucius replied quietly, cupping her face tenderly. 

The door behind them clanged open. “Time’s up, Malfoy!” the jailer barked. 

“Please—just a minute more!” he begged, desperate fear clawing its way up his throat.

“No more time! On your feet, let’s go!” Lucius was hauled roughly to his feet and dragged into the hallway with no time to bid his wife goodbye.

“I love you, Lucius,” Narcissa called frantically as he was separated from her once more.

The guard pulled him through the maze of hallways to his cell, opened the door, removed the shackles, and pushed him in without a word.

Left alone, Lucius felt his heart would surely break. Dropping down onto his bed, he wept.

**_July 1997_  
** **  
**He woke with a start. Alarms were sounding. He could hear screaming. The building rocked as a mighty explosion hit, and dust fell from the ceiling.

Suddenly, Lucius’ door was blasted off its hinges. A masked Death Eater stood in the gaping maw. “Move it, Malfoy,” he barked. “The Dark Lord is breaking your worthless arse out!”

He stood without giving himself time to think about it and hastened towards the man before him, following him down the hallway. They met up with other Death Eaters in a large foyer, each of whom had one of Voldemort’s followers in tow.

“The dementors are joining us!” one of the masked men crowed. “We’ll win this war yet!”

Lucius and the other fugitives were ushered through the prison until they reached the entrance. Out in the open at last, he took a deep breath, savouring the salty air. It smelled sweeter than anything he could remember. Someone took his arm, and he was side-along Apparated away.

They arrived at Malfoy Manor, and Lucius was immediately greeted by a frantic Narcissa. 

“Where is Draco?” he asked her quietly after they had embraced.

“He’s at school,” she replied, “and safe. For now.”

* * *

Life quickly fell back into the old routine of meetings and updates. Potter and his friends were on the run, the Dark Lord had gained control over the Ministry, and they were embattled in full-scale open war once again.

However, despite being broken out, Lucius had been pushed to the bottom of the ranks. He was lower than _ Wormtail, _ Godric be cursed! Daily, the Dark Lord mocked and belittled him. He even demanded Lucius give him his wand. It destroyed Lucius a little to part with it - he felt like he had lost a limb and his magic stuttered without the wand to channel it.  
  
  
He could barely believe that once upon a time, he had shared the Dark Lord’s favour and in his youth, his bed.

_ How times change, _ Lucius thought.

** _April 1998_  
**   
_ “Crucio!” _

Lucius screamed in pain, fire coursing through his veins. Dimly, he could hear Bellatrix screaming, too.

“You let them get away, you incompetent fools!” the Dark Lord roared, incensed.

Potter, the Mudblood, and the Weasley boy had been captured by Greyback’s band of snatchers in the forest of Dean when the idiotic Potter broke the taboo on the Dark Lord’s name. They’d been brought to the manor.

Lucius had been sure his redemption with the Dark Lord had come at last – Potter was in _ his _ home, and he would be the one to inform his master and be lifted up again! No longer would he be reviled and treated like a dog. If he could only recover from his fall from grace, the focus would come off Draco and back to him, and he could finally protect his son. Perhaps not fully, but at least remove him from immediate danger.

But, alas! The thrice-damned elf Dobby, who Potter had freed following the year of the cursed diary, had come to their rescue – after that bumbling idiot wormtail let himself get tricked by the boy, and got himself killed as a result! – and they had all gotten away, Lovegood and his batty daughter Luna and the goblin included.

Lucius knew he now had no hope of ever rising from his current position – and that would be if the Dark Lord didn’t kill him out of spite first, which he well might. He threw killing curses around like quaffles these days, so constant was his wrath.

The _ Crutiatius _struck him once again, and all he could see was white fire.

**_June 1998_  
** **  
** _ Screaming. Spells flying everywhere. Explosions, fires, walls collapsing, the smell of smoke and blood and death. _

Chaos had fully erupted around them. Lucius, Narcissa by his side, waited helplessly in the Forbidden Forest as the battle of Hogwarts raged on. He didn’t know where Draco was, and the terror in his throat threatened to choke him as he fretted. Was his son alive? Dead? Captured?

_ I’ve been a fool, _ he cursed himself. _ I followed a madman and condemned myself, and my family, to unimaginable pain. If Draco dies, I’ll never forgive myself. _

“I was certain Potter would come,” Voldemort mused aloud. “I was, it seems... mistaken.”

“You weren’t.”

Everyone turned in surprise towards the voice and stared. Potter had appeared as if out of nowhere. Lucius felt a grudging respect for the boy; here he was, after all that had befallen him, ready to face down the Dark Lord and his certain death.

Lucius knew the Dark Lord would surely renege on his promise to withdraw – at the very least, he would delay making the call, preferring to toy with the survivors first – and once again he wondered what the point of it all had really been.

The half-giant, still bound, tried to call out to Harry to flee but was silenced by Rowle even as the Dark Lord lifted his wand and cast the killing curse. Potter dropped to the ground and lay still, but strangely, Voldemort was blasted back off his feet as well, momentarily knocked unconscious. He came to quickly, and after brushing off the followers who attempted to offer him aid, he got to his feet and immediately ordered that Narcissa check if the Boy Who Lived was dead. 

With a quick glance at Lucius, Narcissa stepped forward to follow the order. She moved slowly, gracefully, towards the prone boy and sank to her knees beside his body. She leant forward and was still for several moments, her back to the rest of the party.

Abruptly, she stood and turned to look at the assembled crowd. “The boy is dead,” she announced in a clear voice.

Cheers erupted around them, but Lucius simply felt hollow. Narcissa returned to his side, and as she moved to stand with him, she met his eyes for but a second and gave an imperceptible nod. His heart leapt and he felt hope; did she have news of Draco? Was he safe?

_ “Crucio!” _

Lucius inwardly cringed as the Dark Lord defiled the boy’s body, using the unforgivable to fling it about the clearing. When he had had his fun, he ordered the grieving Hagrid to carry the corpse so that he might return to the castle with his prize, triumphant.

Lucius, Narcissa, and the other Death Eaters followed Voldemort out of the forest, across the grounds, and into the ruins of the castle. He exchanged a brief look with his wife, a silent communication passing between them. They would find Draco, and they would leave. Where they would go and what they would do, they did not know – but they would do it together.

As Voldemort approached, the fighting stopped, and all turned to regard him. “See your fallen hero,” he gloated, indicating Potter to gasps, shouts, and screams. The giant gently laid the boy’s body on the ground as the Dark Lord continued to crow, giving the assembled onlookers an ultimatum: join him, or die.

Without warning, chaos erupted. Wizards and witches began pouring into the grounds from all sides, screaming battle cries. Centaurs from the Forbidden Forest galloped onto the scene, charging through Death Eaters and firing a volley of arrows. Even the vicious Hippogriff that had attacked Draco in third year appeared.

In the confusion, Lucuis whispered to Narcissa, “Now’s our chance.”

Holding hands, they pushed through the newly resurgent battle, screaming for Draco.

**_September 1998_  
**  
“The defendant is hereby pardoned from a prison sentence. Lucius Malfoy, you will be confined to house arrest and surrender your wand for a period of three years, after which you will be considered for probation.”

The head Warlock banged his gavel as shouts erupted all around them, and the Aurors rushed to surround Lucius and escort him from the courtroom.

In a small holding chamber, Lucius sat behind a table, shaking and overcome with emotion. Spared from being returned to Azkaban – he could scarcely believe it. His family’s true remorse, their last minute defection through Narcissa’s lie to Voldemort, and the surprising testimony of several key members of the Order – including, of all people, Potter himself – had ensured the Malfoys would be allowed to remain together.

The door opened, and his wife and son were ushered through. Narcissa rushed to embrace him, crying softly. “Thank Merlin, oh, thank Merlin,” she said over and over.

Draco stood by the door, his expression conflicted. Lucius’ heart felt heavy. The fallout from choices he had made had taken a significant toll on his son, and he was unsure whether the rift it had caused in their relationship could ever be repaired. Still, he owed it to them both, and to himself, to try.

“Come here, son,” he urged, holding out his arm.

Draco hesitated only a moment longer. His features, so like Lucius in his younger days, twisted with emotion, and he rushed to embrace his father, a lone sob escaping from his throat. Silent tears escaped from Lucius’ own eyes as he held in his arms the two most precious things in his world.

After several hours, it was time for the Malfoys to go home. Lucius’ wand had been taken and his magic suppressed in preparation for his discharge. Narcissa and Draco had been sent home ahead of him. 

“Come on, Malfoy,” the Auror said, gesturing. 

Lucius stood and allowed himself to be escorted by a team of men through the hallways and out a back entrance, where it was hoped they could avoid the crowds.

They were almost at the apparition point when it happened.

“Malfoy, you Death Eater scum! Suffer as your victims have!”

Before the Aurors could react, the unknown heckler had fired a spell which stuck him directly in the chest. Strangely, as he fell to the ground, Lucius felt no pain. The last thought to pass through his mind before darkness overtook him was of his family _ I wish I could have had time to say farewell, _he thought with regret.

**_J_**_**anuary, 1999 - Present day**_  
  
The curse that had hit him baffled the healers. They had never seen it before. 

At first, it was thought Lucius would come through the attack unscathed, but several weeks after the attack he began to suffer convulsions. He lost weight, could barely eat, and was constantly weak. He was wasting away.

Despite the best efforts of the finest and most talented healers in the Wizarding world, his prognosis was grim. There was nothing anyone could do to help him. The effects of the unknown curse were too aggressive and could not be halted without knowing what spell had been used or how it worked.

In just a few short months, his life had ebbed away until he found himself in his final days. He had elected to live out what remained of his life at home, surrounded by familiarity and family, rather than a sterile hospital appointment and healers.

The only concession he had allowed was a live-in mediwitch who tended to his needs, administered his potions, and kept him as comfortable as possible. Now, she came into the room and he opened his eyes to regard her. A look passed between them. The woman, Sabine – a Muggleborn, ironically – was considered one of the most talented in her profession throughout wizarding Europe, and now she nodded once in immediate understanding.

“Will I call zem now, Meester Malfoy?” she asked in her soft French accent.

“If you please, Sabine,” Lucius replied softly, inclining his head.

The mediwitch left the room and returned a short time later with a pale and weeping Narcissa. Trailing behind, looking afraid, was an equally pale Draco.

“My time is upon me,” Lucius said to them as they sat on either side of his bed. He extended a hand towards each of them, indicating that they should place their hands in his.He noticed how his trembled at the simple action.

“I wish to apologise to you both,” he continued as they reached for him. “I have made choices in my life that—” 

“Please, don’t say any more,” Narcissa interjected. “We – Draco and I – have always loved and supported you. You did what you thought was best at the time—”

“—Cissy, let me finish.” Lucius smiled softly. “I know that your lives these past years have been… difficult. It was not my intention to put either of you through those trials, and if I could have chosen differently—” 

He stopped, overcome by a bout of coughing, and Narcissa released his hand to hold a goblet of water to his lips. 

Lucius drank, relishing the blessed cool liquid against his dry throat, and smiled gratefully at his wife.

Turning to his son, he added, “Draco, more than anything, I apologise to you. You were just a child, and yet you were forced into mens’ matters. Foolish, pointless matters, at that. Because I chose to stand behind a megalomaniac.”

“Father, I—” Draco held back a tortured sob that hurt Lucius’ frail, failing heart. “I forgive you. You only wanted the best for me, always. You gave me so much. I just wish we could have had more time together.” He swiped at his eyes angrily, as if offended by the emotion that showed in them.

“Narcissa.” Lucius turned to his doting wife. “You have been a rock by my side all these years. You have been my adviser and my most ardent supporter, even when it seemed everyone else had turned against me. You gave me a son. I do not know what I would have done without you by my side.”

“You are my heart.” Narcissa wept softly, bringing the hand she clasped to her cheek. Lucius could feel the wetness of her tears on his skin. “I shall cherish you in my memories always.”

Within his chest, a final tightness was building, making it hard to breathe. It felt like a giant was sitting on him, pushing all the breath from his lungs.

“I love you both,” he sighed. He leaned back against his pillows, and his hands went slack in theirs.

* * *

Untethered by his body, Lucius watched sadly from a corner of the room as his wife and son mourned his passing. Sabine had quietly come back into the room, noting his time of death on a chart. She reached out to offer a comforting touch to Narcissa, then to Draco, before leaving them to grieve in peace. He hoped he would be able to remain in the manor in some corporeal form and continue to watch over them both.

He was startled by a sudden trembling of the ground, although Narcissa and Draco appeared not to notice.

As he watched, a fissure appeared in the floor, glowing red-orange. It widened, sparks emitting from the gap. A shadowy figure began to emerge, and Lucius felt a stab of fear. The shape was familiar. And yet, it couldn’t be—! Not without a soul to hold him—!

“Lucius,” the shadow hissed as it rose above the firey pit. 

“My L—” he swallowed. No. He would not use that name any more. He would call the man by his real name - Tom Riddle.

“Tom. How can this be?”

“It seems that even with a torn scrap of a soul, I can still be dragged to the underworld,” Riddle chuckled darkly. “Ironically enough, it’s a Muggle concept. I struggled to accept it at first, but in time I have come to terms with the situation.”

As he stepped closer, he began to take on a more solid form, until he more closely resembled the Lord Voldemort – no, the Tom Riddle – Lucius had known many years ago, in his youth. More like the man who had so enchanted him at that first meeting, the fateful one Bellatrix had convinced him to attend.

Despite his fear and loathing, a part of him reacted in much the same way as he had in those early days, and he was disgusted with himself. It was because of Riddle that his wife and son mourned over his lifeless form—! Riddle’s fault that he would never live to see any children Draco might have—!

“What do you want, Tom?” Lucius snapped, taking a step back.

“Why, it’s time to go, Lucius,” Riddle smiled. It was a cold smile, mocking. He held out a hand.

“Go where?” He thought he knew the answer.

“Down below with me, of course,” Riddle smirked. “Bella is there too. I’m sure she will be thrilled to see you.”

“But… I don’t understand. I… I was redeemed. I won’t go!” Lucius snarled in defiance.

“Redemption is for the living, Lucius,” Riddle drawled. He darted forward and grasped the blond man by the arm.

“We did very bad things, and we did them very well. Now, dear Lucius, you must join me down in Hell.”

His pull was strong, and despite Lucius’ best efforts, he found himself inexorably dragged towards the flaming chasm that was to be his eternity.

As he disappeared into the scorching heat, Lucius screamed.

Above him, the fissure closed, the crack disappearing as if it had never existed, while Narcissa and Draco bid the shell of Lucius Malfoy their final farewells.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first foray into a rare pair - I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
